


One More Time Mechanic!

by prisonmechanic



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Alternate chapters, Multi, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prisonmechanic/pseuds/prisonmechanic
Summary: A collection of deleted ideas and chapters for One More time Optimus Prime ranging from small idea changes to fully written and discarded Chapters... which happens a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is going to make sense if you haven't read One More Time Optimus Prime! so i highly suggest you read that first!

**_Originally, Megatron was supposed to kill Optimus a fourth time, still angry about his betrayal on Cybertron. Instead of OP and Megs talking things out as they do in the most recent chapter, Optimus is instructed  by Primus to give Megatron what he wants. So Optimus does just that. UNEDITED_ **

__

_ Give Megatron what he wants.  _

_____

 

Megatron basked in the glow of Cybertron. Paying no mind to the casualties strewn around him as he glanced to the horizon he smiled; a genuine gesture he hadn't indulged in for so long. So many years… so many lives but he was here now, on the cusp of taking control of the entire planet. His war was won, his mission over. 

Ultra Magnus’ husk sat at his feet, several foolish Primes surroundings them. The cheers of his army roared behind him. Cybertron, their home was finally theirs, finally they were able to come home. 

Megatron turned back to his troops, several of whom already began transforming and heading off to separate edges of the planet as instructed. The others, stragglers planning to stay here in Iacon toyed with soldiers, fallen or not. The small Autobots had no chance. 

In the great glory of success his eyes eventually came to Optimus. Held securely buy Lugnut while his team were held tightly by Blitzwing. 

“No grand plan this time Prime?” Megatron mocked, approaching the restrained mech. 

Prime didn't respond. Instead he looked around, no doubt looking to the fallen Autobots around him. 

“No mocking words? No future predictions?” Megatron laughed, “No surprises?”

“I don’t need to know the future to know how this all turns out Megatron,” Was his only response, spoken softly as he looked down. 

//

 

_ “Blitzwing. I need you to do me a favour,” _

_ “Jez, Optimus?” _

_ “Get them off planet. Steal one of the landed ships, go back to earth. It won’t be safe for them. And they'll put up a fight if they know I'm staying.” _

_ “Jou’re staying?” _

_ “If I come with you, Megatron will hunt me down. It’s safer for you all.” _

 

/////

 

They were gone.

Megatron fumed as he threw open the newly made throne room doors. The room was ornate, but tasteful. Star Maps covered the tall walls, giving way to a raised platform. A throne sat a top it, a familiar red and blue mech chained at its base. Optimus looked up to him from his place chained at the base of his throne, looking at him with determined optics. 

He had something to do with this. 

“You got them off planet!! HOW?!” Megatron roared on his approach, his EM field flaring out in a deliberate attempt to all but choak Optimus. 

The smaller mech stayed silent, as he had done since their initial invasion besides the unusual short answer, simply looking up at the warlord as he finally stood in front of the mech below him. 

“Blitzwing went with them,”  Megatron spat down the the Prime, “I knew letting him keep the small yellow one was a mistake, should have killed them all just to get you to speak!” 

“They were bonded,” Optimus looked up, his voice slightly hoarse from months going unused. 

Megatron glared at him, “Excuse me?”

“Blitzwing and Bumblebee. They have been bonded for… several years now?” Optimus kept his gaze. For a moment Megatron recognized the silent determination Optimus had held that loop building the Spacebridge. The same determination emphasized when he held that awful Hammer, standing up and defying him. 

Megatron didn't like it. 

Before Megatron could recognize what he was doing, his hand lashed out, open palmed and struck the kneeling Prime on the cheek. Optimus’ head snapped to the side, colliding into the metal of the throne itself and causing a cruel clang noise. 

“Do not insult me with infantile notions Prime!” Megatron glared, reaching down and grasping the chains that held Optimus to the throne and pulled them violently. “Don’t think me a fool Prime! I know you had something to do with this!”

The determination in Optimus’ optics was gone and he looked away. His EM feild was held tight, Megatron couldn't get any read on his thoughts. 

“Perhaps some time among the mechs less fortunate than you will straighten you out,” Megatron snarled, letting go of the chains and standing himself back up. 

“Lugnut!” Megatron called, and immediately the mech moved from his place guarding the door and bowed lowly  and approached, “Yes my Master!”

Megatron kept his spiteful gaze on the avoidant  Autobot below him, “Take him to the mines. I will retrieve him when I feel like it.”

///

_ The Jets of solvent they used to clean the miners in the depths hurt. The pressure was insanely high, Optimus had found out they did that to use the least amount of water and clean the most amount of mech. Though the Jets… or Optimus supposed it was more of a hose, often flaked at his plating. After several months there, or what Optimus assumed was several months, it has gotten to the point where he was mostly just the base grey of his uncovered plating.  _

_ Optimus was never told how long he worked for yet the Decepticons had figured a schedule that ran them straight to the point where they almost passed out just before giving them a rest cycle and fuel.  _

_ It wasn't uncommon for mechs to offline from starvation down here.  _

_ He had learned from other mechs pretty quick that he could keep himself in slightly better shape by occasionally consuming the unprocessed energon they found so long as they didn't get caught. Though it was harsh on his systems it kept him running. And that was important. Primus had told him to give Megatron what he wanted. He needed to finish the mission.  _

_ If he was caught stealing energon he was whipped. The energon flail tore at his back and left gashes in his armor. They were left untreated, only occasionally could he get one of the former medics also confined to the mine to take a look at the wounds and try to possibly prevent a rust infection.  _

_ Not that he didn't already have one. It was small, the medic had at least confirmed that when his systems became sensitive to energon. Without any medical equipment the medic, a nice mech by the designation First Aid, could only assume where exactly it was inside him. Assumably it was in one of his fuel pumps, or his main fuel tanks likely caused by the unprocessed energon he consumed. Without proper treatment it would be fatal.  _

_ Eating was killing him but without eating, he would offline anyways. It was an odd situation and Optimus tried to find humor in it, tried to keep his spirits up but it was difficult.  _

_ At least his team was safe. At least he had done one thing right _ .

**__**

* * *

_**In the end of the loop, Megatron finds out Optimus' mine was closed due to a rust infection outbreak. Instead of giving treatment (Under an order he didn't know would kill the Prime) they seal up the mine, leaving the infected and surviving autobots trapped underground. When Megatron finally realizes that Order has sealed the Prime in underground he orders the mine to be unsealed so he may retrieve the prime. After a breif confrontation with Ratchet (Being a medic assigned to the rescue effort and the sole mech remaining on Cybertron From Optimus' team) Megatron delves into the horrors of the mine only to fine Optimus at the end of his life clinging to an almost dispondent First Aid, eventually learning the errors of his ways.** _

_**Removed for obvious reasons but I still liked the plot enough to save the draft i guess.** _

_**Thank You!** _

 

 


	2. The Final Battle V1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned before, The Kaon twist at the Fatal Error came to me in a drunken haze. Before I made that change I wrote out the final few seconds after the final battle in which Optimus fends off both an Irate Megatron and Ultra Magnus. 
> 
> For the chance not only to expand on the antagonists more but also to mix up the final arc, this section had to be cut.

Stark silence. 

 

For a brief click Optimus though maybe there had been damage done to his audials and he was simply deaf. Unluckily this was not the case. 

So many optics. Optimus wanted to hide, hide from what he had done here. Both sides simply stared, watched him closely as he stood among the discarded forms of both faction leaders. 

The air smelled of burnt circuitry and Energon, the stench hung so heavy in the air Optimus could basically  _ taste  _ it. 

He wanted so desperately to run but the moment seemed to stick as if somehow he had stopped time instead of repeating it. If his jetpack was still functional he had no doubt he would have flown off there and then. 

Not a Decepticon, not an Autobot. 

What was he anymore?

What had he  _ done? _

Some ancient bobble seemed so insignificant then. He wanted this to end- wanted all of this to just go  **_away-_ **

Both sides seemed to simply watch him, wait for his move. 

With Starscream at his back and Sentinel Prime at his front, it was entirely possible for another factional fight to start out. 

So Optimus screamed. 

A guttural and desperate noise that echoed over the Nexus. 

Optimus screamed. Screamed for himself, screamed for those he had lost time and time again, screamed for those he was going to lose again. 

_ Stop looking at him!!! Get away!!! _

His vents heaved and he only stopped when his vocalizer gave out and all he could emit was a low static hum. 

A silent beat. 

Another. 

Three.

Until there was a sudden commotion from both sides. Vague orders of retreat and attack rang out around him. It made Optimus' head spin, forcing him into a tense and unstable step forward. He Braces himself on the pole of the hammer but little did to aid in the sudden overbearing sensory input. There’s movement out the side of his optics, blurs of grey and bright colours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, Optimus' anxiety was a lot more prevalent here than in the final draft but I like it better the way it is. 
> 
> Thoughts? Good Bad? Oh god please tell me it's bad I like the final version so much better.


	3. Filling Gaps V1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
> 
> So the direction I took with the most recent chapter completely changed (EXCEPT FOR ONE MAJOR PLOT POINT THAT Isn't CHANGED SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK) direction and so here is the 3000 words I have to dump in the garbage while I rewrite this entire chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It became obvious to me halfway through this chapter I was not only not doing the desperation of Prison system nor the system I had come up with actually functioned in this world. 
> 
> So now I have to write something 100x Darker and chances are Wildrider will be removed completely.

When Prowl came back online he ached. The floor Below him was cold, chilling almost every component in his frame. The view wasn't exactly pretty either. The small cell around him was dark, damp and depressing. A single small light dangled from the ceiling that looked like it may go out at any moment. It reflected dully on the old rusting metal around him. 

Prowl pulled his knees into his chest, sliding himself against the far wall from the door. Several broken memory files awaited opening in his HUD but we're pushed aside until he could confirm his safety in the cell. 

After further inspection Prowl could really acertain two possible issues. The first being a seemingly constant leak of oil from the ceiling above him and the second being the rust. 

The oil was easily avoided as it pooled in one corner of the room but the rust was everywhere. Given enough time it was entirely possible he'd end up with a nasty infection. 

And Prowl didn't think he'd be getting any medical treatment. 

Prowl put his head down and closed his optics. He had to think. 

The memory files blinked desperately at him. But when he opened the first there was a small problem. 

_ File corrupt. _

Jazz stared indecisively at the message for a beat before moving to the next one. 

_ File corrupt.  _

The next. 

_ File corrupt.  _

Had he been hit too hard on the head? Prowl held his head. It didn't hurt… still he couldn't quite piece together what had happened at the Magnus’ office.

_ Tap tap. _

Prowl jumped, shooting up to a standing position almost immediately onto his pedes. As it turned out it was a small mech, barely the size of Bee crouched beside him. Curious red optics stared up at him, and the more Prowl looked at him the more he thought he could almost cradle the small mech. 

“How are you feeling?” the small mech asked almost formally as he stood. 

Prowl looked down quizzically at the small green mech, “Is that a mustache?”

The mech instantly went to touch the facial insignia with a low frown, “Its an insignia for the house of Ambus. Honestly why is that everyone’s first question?”

Prowl bit back a smile, the memory of a small angry officer Fanzone coming to mind. 

“How are you feeling?” the small mech repeated. 

“Confused,” Prowl stated, “I ache but that is all frame wise.”

“Good, good” the small mech hummed, “My designation is Minumus Ambus.”

Prowl paused, looking the small mech over, “I’m Prowl.”

\---

As it turned out Minimus was a wealth of information. Meals were served twice a day, shoved through the small slot on the large door. The prison, as it turned out to be Trypticon, housed mainly Decepticons captured during the war along with several sympathizers or spies. 

Minimus fell snuggly into a fourth category. 

“My brother was a spy sent onto the Peaceful Tryrany to uncover Decepticon information. When he stopped reporting it was thought he defected and so I was arrested.” Minimus hummed as if it was some distant story detached from himself. 

“But you committed no crime,”Prowl said. 

“They thought if they arrested me, he might return. A foolish tactic Really, he and I never truly got along.” Minimus said. He picked absentmindedly at the rust around him. Since he had been here it seemed as if he had actually had a corner of the stuff completely cleaned. 

“Another thing rotten above the surface...” Prowl mumbled. 

“Pardon?”

“Unlawful arrests seem to be a common practice right now, along with a seemingly growing issue of corruption,” Prowl mumbled, “I’m not entirely sure the grounds for my own arrest.”

They talked for what seemed like hours, but the small mech assured him time would feel slow here. With no way to tell time nor the distinction between day or night. Eventually, their first round of energon was served. 

“Just a warning,” Minimus provided, “They’ll be coming to receive us soon.”

“For what?” Prowl sipped delicately. The action brought back a longing for the familiarity of the cafeteria table with Jazz and the others. He pushed down the memories. 

“What they call, ‘comunal time’. Trypticon was built as a set of solitary cells. For one  hour  they bring us all together as a way to prevent insanity. It is… not very successful.”

Prowl pondered over his energon, “Then why am I in here with you? If this is a solitary cell?”

“My only guess would be over crowding,” Minimus took a sip of his own ration, “hmm. That’s odd.”

Prowl looked into his own drink then back up to the minicon, “What is?”

“The energon is stronger than usual; A higher grade,” Minimus Ambus glared down at his fuel, “This is odd.”

\---

When a guard finally came to get them Minimus stood as if about to sillute and gave what sounded like a complete formal report on the increased quality of the Energon. It took several minutes, in which the guard listened with feigned interest, but eventually he completed it before both were cuffed and moved on into the long hallways of the facility. 

Prowl made a mental note of every twist and turn, attempting to mentally map out the labryinth of halls. 

Other doors around them were opened revealing hulking masses of pre-war mining frames, poorly painted Decepticon symbols adorning their chests. They looked at Prowl with a hungry curiosity, eyeing his relatively newly manufactured curves. 

“You should really think about changing your optic colour manually,” Minimus whispered beside him. When Prowl cast him a confused glance Minimus explained, “Makes you look a little more Decepticon. There aren’t any regulations in here about it. I’d be happy to help you with it.”

“I’m… fine thank you,” Prowl turned away. 

More Decepticons joined their marching party; some newer frames including seekers. 

Other than a few hushed whispers no one spoke save for guards idle chat. 

Prowl counted 15 clicks of wandering the halls before they came up on a large set of doors. They opened with a harsh creek and before Prowl had much time to process there was a blaster at his back nudging him into the room. 

The communal room was packed. Noticing very quickly there would be absolutely no chance to hide from anyone, including the rafters where several seekers had perched themselves, a sense of claustrophobia set into him. Warframes crowded the floor, clustering in small groups around something in the middle of them. Seekers either joined them or sung an odd tune in the rafters. In the middle of the circular room stood a single guard tower while several others lined the perimeter. 

Prowl wanted to shrink into himself. 

It took no time at all for others to notice thier arrival. 

Some warframe scooped Minimus up from beside him, carrying off the little mech who protested with some effort. From behind him a larger servo moved to his back, groping at his pelvic armor. Prowl turned, fumbling backward into another large mech, this time a seeker. They turned, eyeing him for a click before reaching for him too. Prowl shot back again, this time being more cautious to slip between mechs but there was almost no where to go and eventually he was caught. 

Panic constricted his spark as some large mech, an obvious pre-war frame grabbed him by the arm and lifted him like a doll. 

“He’s got tiny servos!” the large mech yelled across the surrounding mechs. 

Another mech grabbed his waist and he was torn away with little effort. 

“How many connector ports do you think he has? My bet’s on six sets, he’s real lanky.”

Prowl shuddered, kicking wildly at the mech and yelling incoherently. They were just going to take him here now? How many of them? At once?

Being lifted up over parts of the crowd gave Prowl a better look at what exactly those clusters of warframes were. In the middle of them each was an Autobot, splayed under one of the Decepticons moaning loudly. 

Prowl kicked harder. 

“He’s got the cutest little visor!” a femme beside him coo-ed, poking his helm like a sparkling’s. 

“Looks like a spec- ops agent… my type...”

“What’s your name little thing?”

“Do you do oral? You look like 'n oral kind of mech.”

“I’ve got a few drops of high grade you can have! Let me go first!”

Prowl's processor spun. Mechs grabbed at him left and right, pulling tenderly at him towards their direction. 

“Stop!” Prowl finally yelled out, “Don’t touch me!”

And just like that the grabbing stopped. 

Without the insistent hands Prowl lost his balance, clambering to the floor and a small heap. Looking up only revealed a circle of Decepticons staring down at him in interest and worry. 

“He’s new,” One of the large mech's that came in with Prowl stated, “he came in with Ambus. He just need some adjustment time.”

Just like that another hand was on him, this time gripping his upper chassis and lifting him up and onto the Warframe's shoulders. 

Prowl wrapped his arms around the hulking mech’s head for balance and shook slightly. 

“Awe he’s scared,” someone chimed in from the crowd. 

Overwhelmed Prowl stayed quiet, wrapping himself on the stranger’s helm. 

“Name’s Wildrider, nice to meet ya.”

Prowl looked down, examining the Decepticon beneath him, “...Prowl.”

“Prowl...” the Decepticon purred, “you have very tiny servos  _ Prowl.  _ Mind helping me with a little problem?”

Prowl stiffened. Was he truly suggesting they interface here?!

“No!” Prowl yelled, “I certainly will not!”

Wildrider huffed under him, disappointed. 

“Excuse me! Pardon me!”

A familiar voice came from below them. 

“Bonecrusher, your pede please. Thank you,” Minimus’ small squeeky voice resonated between the mecha around them. 

Eventually the small mech came into view in front of Wildrider. 

“Prowl! Good to see you're okay!” Minimus smiled nervously, “Sorry we got seperated. I had been meaning to explain things before I  was distracted by the Energon issue. I assume Wildrider and his friends didn't give you too much trouble?”

Prowl glared, saying nothing in response. 

“I uh… assume you may be a bit confused?” 

“What I want is to be put down and left  _ alone, _ ” Prowl grumbled, “And I’d prefer the prison-wide  _ rape  _ stop as well.”

Wildrider laughed, rumbling Prowl on top of him. 

“You Autobots, for all that superiority you spout can be so dumb sometimes! Your kind are a commodity around here” Wildrider chucked, joined in by others, “they do it because they want to. Because it gets them extra energon or high grade or medical supplies. We outnumber you a hundred to one, breaking one of you would anger a lot of others around here.”

Prowl eyed Minimus suspiciously. 

The small mech shrugged, “I stick to painting and maintenance but interface is an easy way to get what you want from around here.”

Prowl flattened his plating, still overly aware of all the optics on him, “I am… I...”

Slowly, carefully Wildrider picked him back up and placed him on the ground. 

“Real pity too. I was sure your servos were small enough for a touch up,” the Decepticon mumbled, motioning to a half scraped off Decepticon symbol on his chassis. 

And that was how Prowl found himself set on a small seekers shoulders balancing a paint jar and attempting to ‘rebrand’ damaged 'Cons. His hand was Shakey at first but after a few trials he got the hang of it.

“mm’ got scratched off in a scuffle with Drag Strip. He's my leg.” Wildrider hummed as Prowl worked on him.

“Your… leg?” Prowl asked curiously. 

“We’re a Gesalt see? I'm the other leg. We get into it sometimes.” Wildrider smiled, “Our arms and head are held somewhere else. Just me, Drag strip and Breakdown in this block.”

Prowl was passed unceremoniously onto a few other mechs who laughed and told him ridiculous stories about how they lost their brands. 

Eventually Wildrider sat him down in front of someone strikingly familiar. 

Brainstorm paid him no special attention as he unhinged his face mask. Prowl questioned exactly when the scientist had been arrested and when exactly he had gotten so  _ large.  _

Unceremoniously Brainstorm dropped the faceplate in front of Prowl, revealing a Decepticon insignia on the inside of it's plating. 

“So whatcha in for?” Brainstorm casually asked. 

“Brainstorm! You can’t just ask someone why they were arrested!” Wildrider spat, obviously trying to hide his own curiosity. 

Prowl picked up the mask and delicately applied the brush. 

Despite the distraction of seeing the familiar scientist from that night in the labs Optimus flashed into Prowl's minds eye. 

“I’m a con sympathizer,” Prowl mumbled, “It’s kinda a long story.”

Wildrider laughed, “Oh please. I've been in here since the start of the war. That's what? Three million years now? I’ve got time.”

Prowl's head shot up.  _ What. _

Brainstorm rolled his optics and stretched the tubing in his cheeks, “Speak for yourself. I just got here.”

Wildrider, noticing Prowl's concerned gaze smiled, “Things can get tough in here don't get me wrong. Fights break out and the seekers get ground sickness but there’s a reason we function more like  a community than a hell hole. Plus moral has been good lately since news of-”

Brainstorm shot him a glare, silencing the massive mech. 

“Since what?” Prowl questioned. 

“Since nothing,” Brainstorm growled, “Wildrider just needs to shut his trap before it weld it shut.”

Prowl fell silent, passing the mask back to Brainstorm. 

Brainstorm accepted, placing the mask back in place before tapping the Autobrand on his chest. 

“Needs a touch up,” Brainstorm looked fondly back at the insignia, as if remembering the sweet nothings of a distant memory, “I’ve got someone waiting for me on the outside.”

Prowl's mind raced back to Jazz. 

“Me too,” Prowl picked up a small jar of red paint before leaning towards the scientist. 

“No wonder this one doesn’t want to interface!” Wildrider laughed, “so what are they like? Mech? Femme? Tell me you’re into strong, big and handsome.”

Jazz frowned. He had stormed out on Jazz last time they had seen each other, leaving him and the others to deal with the invasion when he got arrested. 

Prowl tried his best not to think about their impending doom before he had a solid escape plan. 

“He’s uh… Elite guard. A major,” Prowl mumbled softly, “just promoted actually. Though I’m unsure he feels the same about me.”

“Wait. You’ve got a spark for Jazz Major?” Brainstorm gawked at him, “Like 'just hunted down a smuggling ring’ Jazz Major?”

Prowl nodded slowly. 

Brainstorm giggled as if they were simply spreading office gossip, “No way. He’s so out of your league. Though I mean I’m not one to talk. I got it bad for someone with no emotions.”

“Enough chatter about Perceptor,” Wildrider rolled his Optics.

“You mean  _ Minister of science Perceptor? _ ” Prowl gawked. 

Brainstorm smirked from under his mask, “and guess who has the backup file for his emotional drive?”

It felt nice to gossip. It reminded him of Cliff Jumper and Getaway gossiping about mechs in the office. It reminded him of Bumblebee's idle chatter. 

It felt weird to miss mechs. Until earth Prowl hadn't missed much of anything or anyone since Master Yoketron and that had been almost two million years ago. 

Prowl finished Brainstorm's brand and glared down at the paint jar he held. 

“You’ve been here a long time Wildrider,” Prowl paused, “How many guards are there?”

“Donno,” Wildrider hummed, “I didn’t take to collecting names of those sadists but we probably outnumber ‘em twenty to one.”

“So why haven’t you climbed out of this pit then?” Prowl looked into the larger mech's optics. 

Uncomfortably Wildrider looked away, “‘nd go where? We riot and the Elite guard is here within 15 clicks. Not to mention we can't get off planet. As much as we're prisoner here, we’re safer here. Riots only happen when they decrease our rations really.”

Complacency-- a more common and common issue Prowl thought. Perhaps if he could cause a riot and slip out through the vents…

An awkwardly chimed bell rang out. 

“Times up,” Brainstorm huffed and shoved a few nuts and bolts into Prowl's palm, “Payment.” He clarified. 

Soon enough they were lined up and collected by guards, and returned to their cells. 

\--- 

Prowl stared down at those odds and ends he had collected during his run in the communal room, watching them blankly as a plan started forming in his processor. 

Minimus watched him for him clean corner on the other side of the room. 

“You’ve figured something out,” Minmus observed from the other side of the room. 

“Maybe,” Prowl responded. 

“Would you by chance care to share?” Minimus asked. 

“Its Brainstorm. And Wildrider. And I suppose every other 'Con here. There are mechs here from  _ before _ the war. They like it here, its comfortable,” Prowl hummed, “They're lying-- you're lying. They're pent up. The seekers climb as high as they can they're so ground sick. There wasn't a single fight that broke out today despite all of them being in fights just the orn before.”

Minimus’ optics fell to a darker maroon shade. 

“And it got me thinking. I think they know.”

“Know what?” Minimus asked, rumbling deep in his chest. 

“I think they Know Megatron is coming back to Cybertron,” Prowl said softly, “I think there’s a breakout plan and I want in.”

Minimus glared at him, “I keep trying to tell the guards they’re planning something but they won’t listen. Some of these Mechs shouldn’t be out there Prowl. Some of them are really despicable.”

Prowl nodded, thinking back to several groups he could spot in the back of the communal room, “They were sent here to be forgotten. There’s no better prison than one you  want to stay in. But if they know Megatron is returning...”

“They’d have reason to leave,” Minimus finished, “The real question is, how do you know Megatron is planning an invasion? What other proof do you have?”

Prowl looked back to the few nuts and bolts in his palm. Minimus was a mech of rules; Of doing the right thing in the situation in front of him. If Prowl wanted help he was going to have to stretch the truth a bit and play the field.

“I’m an intelligence agent,”  _ okay good start, not a lie technically, _ “I was part of Optimus Prime’s team when he defected. He has plans to invade with Megatron. And soon. I tried to warn high command but I… lost the memory files of it somehow.”


	4. There's Really no Escape (Aulternate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different direction i was taking for the meeting between Optimus and Megatron
> 
> A Merry Mechanic Christmas

Megatron arrived at the pit exactly on time. Flanked by Both Tarn and Shockwave, he marched with confidence despite the wavering in his spark. He hadn't seen Optimus since the fight and as Shockwave pointed out, they had no medic. 

As they entered a small party of Autobots moved towards them; at their head, someone distinctively not Optimus. Instead it seemed to be the black and gold ninja bot flanked by a white mech and some tiny green thing Carrying a blaster way too large for him. 

Megatron scoffed as he approached, kicking up dust on the metal floor.

Beside him Shockwave whispered, “My Lord I have a theory-”

“They disobeyed our Lord's demands,” Tarn butted in, “Theory or not this in not the mech Lord Megatron requested. If I may My Lord…?”

The tell-tale powering up sequence of Tarn's blaster started up. In Front of them the three approaching mechs stopped and brought up their own weapons in response. 

“Tarn, Hold.” Megatron hissed, “No use and scaring off the sparklings now.”

Slowly, as if convinced the mechs before them posed a viable threat, Tarn lowered his blaster. 

The mechs in front of them followed suit, coming tentatively into speaking range. 

“You put me in an odd position,” Megatron stated, “Not only is Optimus here but I don’t believe I recognise any of you. None of your Decepticon defectors are present either.”

Actually, the more he examined the ninja bot the more familiar he became… what was his designation again? Stalk? Sneak? No _ , Prowl. _

“Where is Ratchet, Blurr and Cliffjumper,” Prowl hissed at him.

“Shockwave,” Megatron motioned. 

“Blurr is currently being kept under my watch. The prisoner Ratchet has been  transported nearby as Lord Megatron requested. As for Cliffjumper, the last report of him we received he was head of intelligence after my absence,” Shockwave reported stoically. 

“Then what do you want,” Prowl spat out, looking between the three of them defensively. 

“Truly you do lack your leader’s diplomatic skills,” Tarn hissed. 

Prowl stiffened. 

“I want Optimus, in return I shall release your medic to you,” Megatron continued, “And in the shape you all are in I can tell you need it.”

“No,” Prowl immediately retorted. 

The two mechs with him looked at each other in slight concern, telling Megatron all he needed to know about their current situation. 

“Tell me, which among you is injured the most?” Megatron took a step forward and leaned over the small mech imposingly, “Is it Blitzwing? Or that tiny yellow brat he keeps around? Or the large green one? Will they survive the day?”

The Ninja's visor flashed with an ill concealed emotion. 

Bingo. 

“No,” Prowl managed again, “you think I don’t know Optimus is the only reason you haven’t obliterated us? Ratchet can handle himself.”

Megatron smirked as if he had won,“Bring me the medic.”

Tarn turned on his heels, transformed and exited the arena. 

“What is your game here?” the white mech before him mumbled. 

“My Lord,” Shockwave interrupted, “I think now would be a good time to bring up that theory-”

Megatron shot him a harsh glare. The scientist shut off his vocalizer. 

“If he isn’t in working condition when he arrives...” Prowl threatened. 

“You’ll do what tiny autobot? Attack me? Not likely,” Megatron scoffed, “Give me Optimus and this all goes away.”

The ninja bot cringed with such strain that his entire body seemed to cramp together. 

“But it  _ won’t _ -” the ninja began to counter before he stopped dead, looking behind the warlord. 

Tarn dragged the stubborn medic behind him with little interest, focussing himself on returning to his Commander. Without much thought he flung the medic in front of Megatron and returned to his position at his side. 

The medic straightened before the Warlord in an attempt to come off as stronger than he was. Megatron found the action respectable if not futile. The cuffs binding the small medic were more than enough to remove any intimidation factor. 

“Give me Optimus,” Megatron said once more and drew his sword. 

The white one piped up next, drawing his attention for a moment, “Prowl just do it, come on-”

Prowl snapped his head towards him and shook his head, “Jazz we’ve come so far-”

“With Blitzwing and Brainstorm refusing to show up it's just us! Give it up  already!” Jazz all but yelled at Prowl. 

“Jazz use you’re fragging comms!” Ratchet snapped. 

“Pathetic Autobots,” Tarn huffed under his breath, “So disorganized.”

Megatron bristled his armour and drew his sword. 

“My lord,” Shockwave interjected, “wait a minute-”

Seeing the sword, Ratchet immediately turned to the mech in front of him,“Don’t give him Optimus. Prowl he won't actually-”

With a loud clang, the warlord smashed the hilt of his sword into the side of the Medic's head. Megatron cringed inwardly as the small medic took the full force of the blow, falling splayed out onto the arena floor. 

“Ratchet!” Jazz yelled and took a step forward, only to pause as Tarn charged up his cannon once more. 

The medic groaned and brought himself back up onto his elbows, looking over his shoulders at the Decepticon leader. If looks could kill Megatron was sure the Autobots would have used Ratchet as a super weapon. 

“I will not hesitate to give Tarn full freedom, Medic. I assure you he’s just itching to get a hold of all of you,” Megtron raised his sword and turned it point down against Ratchet's back as if to prove his point. “Final time; where is Optimus?”

He was lying; Megatron assured himself. This was a bluff. If he didn't do so convincingly… 

Well he had no real back up plan.

::Megatron!:: Shockwave hissed into the comms this time, ::Listen to me!::

“Shut Up!” Tarn reprimanded aloud at Shockwave, “Don’t interrupt our Master’s work!”

Prowl held firm, offering little more than a sympathetic glance at the medic. 

Frag.  _ Frag.  _ Megatron twitched but held himself together. Had he misjudged Optimus’ team to such an extent?

“You would sacrifice two lives; that of your medic and your injured, just to save that deserter?” Megatron hissed. 

Ratchet gaped, his voice wavering despite holding it's usually grumpy tone, “He’s not just taking you by force for a reason Prowl- OUGH!” 

Megatron cutting him off again, this time with a swift kick to the gutt. 

“Speak now or I drive my sword straight though your medic’s spark chamber!” Megatron seethed out between his teeth.

“Agent Prowl,” Shockwave stepped forward, placing a claw delicately on Megatron sword and stepping in front of the warlord, “What condition is Optimus in?”

Fuming, Megatron just about turned the sword on the Decepticon but the small mech's voice stopped him. 

“He’s fine!” Prowl yelled almost too defensively. 

“Then why is he not here?” Shockwave pressed, “at every given opportunity Optimus has put himself between all of you and Lord Megatron. Why does he hide now?”

Prowl stayed silent. 

“My Lord,” Shockwave turned back to Megatron, “May I make a suggestion to have a search part inspect the lower levels, I suspect you will find Optimus there and unable to make this way to the surface.”

Megatron's lines went cold. 

“No!” Prowl yelled, “Don’t!”

That was all the confirmation he needed. 

“Tarn, prevent-” Megatron paused, thinking over his words a little more carefully, “Restrain these four until I return. Have the rest of the Division aide you if needed.”

This time the Autobots did attack, though they made little ground with both Shockwave and Tarn at their side. 

Tarn settled himself with the small green one underfoot and the two slim mechs tucked under his arm. Ratchet struggled in his other servo. 

“Stop!” Prowl yelled after both mechs as they moved to enter the gilded doors of the arena basement. 

Megatron paused, looking over his shoulder. 

“Let Bumblebee and Brainstorm finish please!” Prowl gasped out. Tarn  **_grumbled_ ** and Prowl stilled, arching in pain. 

Megatron winced but gave no other indication of his sympathy as they entered the lower tunnels. 

“At best,” Shockwave provided as they fell out of ear shot, “He's been confined to a room to stop him from fighting you again. At worst, Logically he's in emergency stasis and we'll have to bring him to a medic immediately.”

“You overstepped your boundaries Shockwave,” Megatron chose to focus on that-- anything else really than the mech they we're looking for, “Still, how did you know so quickly Optimus was the injured one?”

“There is no other reason he wouldn’t have faced you head on,” Shockwave replied stoically, “when did you ever interact with his crewmates?”

“Once, when he was on medical leave,” Megatron provided. 

They walked in silence for a while. Neither of them chose to acknowledge where they were. Still the ghosts of the past whispered softly to them. Though they walked in silence the walls around them spoke in a constant drone. 

“We should try the medical hall first,” Megatron cut through the thick tension, “Let’s just get out of here as swiftly as possible.”

“Agreed,” Shockwave nodded swiftly. 

Turning several corners it wasn't long until the others came into earshot. 

“Ve need to go!” Blitzwing yelled.

“We can’t just leave him here!” Bumblebee yelled back, followed by someone else agreeing. 

“I am not about to vatch you get torn apart in front of me!” Blitzwing yelled again, “or vorse! Leave him Bug! Vis no medic he is dead anyways!”

Megatron broke into a sprint. 

Rounding another turn brought the scene into view. 

Blitzwing stood in the hallway pulling the small yellow one into his arms as he fought viciously to get back into a medical stall. Bulkhead stood in the hallway, motioning at something down the opposite hall. The silhouette of Brainstorm leaned over the table was the only indication Megatron had that there was still a chance to speak to Optimus. 

He rushed at the same moment Blitzwing saw him. 

_ Click-whir.  _ Megatron had never seen the triple changer's blue face so scared in his life. 

“Leave him!” Blitzwing shreaked, cradling the small yellow mech to his chest. Together, with Bulkhead they bolted the other direction. 

Megatron paid them no more mind other than swift orders to Shockwave to follow them. 

Instead he turned into the medical both and froze. 

Brainstorm stared up at him in disbelief. His one servo found itself deep into the twisted metal of Optimus’ right hip joint. His other, delicately held a fuel line dangerously close to the ex-Prime's open chest plates. Energon covered the table, dripping unceremoniously onto the floor. Between them another fuel line ran between them; transferring energon from Brainstorm to Optimus’ fuel tank.

The Magnus hammer, clutched tightly in the ex-Prime's left servo, leaned forward in warning. 

_ He's still online _ . 

Megatron immediately met Optimus’ stern gaze and lost his ventilation. 

“Disengage Brainstorm,” Optimus ordered sternly, his voice weak and full of static. 

“You’ll bleed out,” Brainstorm hissed back, “as I’ve said a million times before.”

“ _ Disengage, _ ” Optimus’ kept Megatron's gaze, “Or I’ll ignite both our energon and not just my own.”

_ Oh God, Optimus was planning to- _

“You need a medic,” Megatron managed to push past his own lip plates. 

The voice he had been so conveniently keeping at bay surged forward then. Guilt shook his spark. His knees would have buckled if not for the new goal fresh in his helm. 

_ You did this- now fix it.  _

“Go get the medic!” Megatron barked at the scientist, “Stop standing there!”

“I can’t!” Brainstorm barked back, “I don't know why he isn’t in stasis even now! If I disengage, he's going into emergency stasis lock and I don't know how long he can hold himself now he's opened up like this!”

At that moment Brainstorm seemed to realize exactly who he was yelling back and flattened his plating. His servo’s fumbled out of Optimus’ hip joint causing the injured mech to arch up and grunt in attempt to follow the temporary hold.Brainstorm left their fuel pumps attached as he stepped away, following both sets of commands to the best of his ability. 

It was only then Megatron came back to himself enough to act. 

Nausea still swarmed in his tank when he activated his comm array, ::Bring me the medic::

Tarn’s confirmation ping calmed the war within him marginally,. 

“Lord Megatron,” Brainstorm started, this time he took a more formal tone “I hate to say this but I’m running low here. Blitzwing was supposed to take over-”

“No, I’ll kill him if he comes near,” Optimus hissed back. 

Brainstorm seemed to look between the two of them cautiously.

“Ratchet’s on his way,” Megatron provided. 

The shear relief that washed over Optimus’ faceplates wretched another shred of guit up and into the Warlord. Following it cam a deep lash of anger. 

Anger at whom though?

“He’s alive?” Optimus asked, that same relief soaked his tone. 

“Alive and mainly uninjured save for his battle damage.” Calming the small mech brought the beginning bout of rage down marginally-- if only enough to control it a while longer.

Optimus relaxed the hammer. Megatron assumed the movement was unconscious. 

“And the others? Prowl, Jazz and Minimus?”

Before Megatron had the chance to quell the smaller mech's fears- oh how desperately he wanted to do so-- the commotion at the door answered for him. 

“OP!” Jazz slid into the room, “Tarn’s got-!”

Jazz got cut off by a familiar purple hand swatted at him, brushing him back off into the hallway. Without the obstruction in his way Tarn entered the room and pushed the medic forward. On his back Prowl and Minimus clung to his back kibble; making any effort to injure the war machine that they could. 

Megatron would have laughed at the spectacle save for the mech bleeding out beside him. 

“As you requested my l-”

“Optimus!” Ratchet burst forward. 

Optimus didn't seem to notice; instead gaping at Tarn in the doorway.

The familiar sound of the hammer charging up had Megatron reaching for the tool with one hand and shoo-ing his Commander with the other. 

Ratchet seemed to get the same idea and managed to pull the hammer from Optimus’ grip, “Everyone out!”

The harshness off his tone had even Tarn twisting slightly away, Prowl and the others though seemingly got the message with little more instruction. Brainstorm on the other hand, moved to transfer his emergency fuel lines to Ratchet. 

Megatron was never more impressed with a medic’s ability to clear a med-bay than at that moment. 

“You’re dismissed Tarn,” Megatron provided and hesitantly the tank acknowledged and left the room. 

“You’re alright,” Optimus stilled up at the medic as he hooked into the injured mech's diagnostic ports. 

It was as if the harsh focus and desperation melted away the sight of the medic. Optimus became compliant to the medic's touches- unlike his earlier resigned permissive deminor with Brainstorm.

The anger lashed back at him and Megatron realized the anger was directed at himself. 

If only they had  _ talked _ earlier. If only Optimus had  _ asked  _ or come to him. But Optimus would have never. Not with those scars and what had caused them. Not as if Megatron would have believed or helped him. 

It was a pathetic notion but Megatron still entertained it. Perhaps maybe- and it was a long stretch- he would have listened; helped, or gotten Shockwave to get him back to cybertron. 

Megatron thought if he ever got a second chance he would prevent all of this from happening. 

That feeling was back again. Directed at Optimus. Still he couldn't (didn’t want to) quite decipher the tags and sub-glyphs his processor tried to tag into it. 

“Can’t say the same about you-- did you overclock your processor?!” Ratchet yelled. 

“S’only way to stay awake,” Optimus slurred back, “-‘ve had to manually start debugging-”

Ratchet opened his own subspace and started sifting through the tools in his subspace, “Well yeah I can see that kid! The backlog is massive! I don't even know what’s self induced or not anymore!”

_ Self-induced.  _

_ What had Optimus been doing to himself? _

Megatron felt as if he was intruding on a private moment and moved to leave. He would still have to deal with Blitzwing and Brainstorm after all, and watching Optimus slur his words was doing nothing to keep his head-- or spark, clear. 

“ep, ep, ep,” Ratchet called after him, “Where do you think you’re headed?”

Megatron paused at the door, “Out? I don't believe Optimus would want me around, and I doubt he's coherent enough to vocalize as such.”

“Medical supplies,” Ratchet hissed out, “I need medical grade and an entire new ball joint for this hip. I need almost an entirely new circuit package for his arm too while we’re at it.”

Megatron nodded, still attempting to shake off the shock of the situation. 

“I’ll have Hook bring some down immediately,” Megatron turned back to the door. 

“and Megatron?”

Megatron paused, this time he didn't turn around, “Just because you fixed him up doesn’t mean he’s going to warm up to you.”

Though he already knew that hard truth but the words still splashed over him like hot oil. He didn't hesitate further and he left the room, planning on organizing Optimus’ little rag tag group. 

Anything,  _ Anything _ , to avoid thinking about these feelings and what they may imply.

\---

The waited together, bunched up like frightened children as Shockwave looked over them all. The room they stayed in felt cramped with so many frames but they had little choice in the matter. Megatron had rounded them all up when he left the medical bay, confining them here and simply left to do something else. 

At their front Blitzwing sat with Bumblebee, curled around the small mech protectively. There was no question of what they were to each other anymore; the revelation concerned Prowl more than aggravated him. 

It wasn't as if he hadn't been warming up to the idea of Decepticons lately anyways. 

A servo brushed delicately over his own, snapping his attention to Jazz beside him.

They looked at each other for a click before Prowl whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Jazz simply looked confused at him. 

“I just wish we had time for proper hellos,” Prowl lemented, “And I’m sorry, for getting you into this.”

Jazz seemed to cringe, awkwardly buckling in on himself. 

“What is it?” Prowl asked. 

“Nothing I just-”

“”

\---

Jazz decided he hated everything. 

He hated this pit of a structure they landed on. He hated the way that Bumblebee and Blitzwing clung to each other everywhere they went. He hated Megatron's awkward attempts to get them all to sit in the same room while they waited. He hated the way the warlord failed and resorted to threatening them all together into one room with Tarn at the door. 

Jazz hated Sentinel Prime. 

Jazz hated the fact he was going to do  _ this _ . 

Jazz rose, trying not to stir Prowl who had fallen into recharge. He stepped quietly around the rest of them, making his way to the door slowly. 

Tarn greeted him with a unamused stare. 

“Gotta take a leak,” Jazz forced his tone down and normal despite the burning in his spark. 

“Go lay back down Autosum,” Tarn tilted his head back and let his optics roam the small white frame before him, “You’re below my pay grade.”

“You want me to just release waste oil with everyone else in the room?” Jazz asked. 

Tarn only shrugged in response. 

“Jazz!” Brainstorm called from across the room, “ _ sit back down. Now. _ ”

“It’s fine,” Megatron’s sudden appearance behind Tarn in the doorway shocked the few who were awake, “They aren’t our prisoners Tarn.”

“My Lord, But the traitors-”

Megatron pushed past him. Annoyance pooled off Megatron's EM field; knocking into Jazz and forcing Tarn to shut it. 

“Blitzwing and Brainstorm,” Megatron eyed them from across the room, “Along with Optimus Prime will be dealt with come the appropriate time. Let the tiny white one go if he so pleases.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Not what happened at all huh? Leave a comment if you want! Kudos and reads are always appreciated!


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